


Flatfoot

by trash_salad



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Running, flirtation, mentions of french fries, probably more fluff than anyone needs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:49:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8091820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_salad/pseuds/trash_salad
Summary: Ever hear the phrase "local flatfoots" and take it completely literally for a split second? Ever decide to write a short fluffy one shot about flat arches? Yeah.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sensitive_pigeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sensitive_pigeon/gifts).



> This work has sat on my computer for months. It was the first Wayhaught fic I ever wrote, merely as a little exercise to figure out what I wanted to do with these characters. I do that a lot, and they usually get deleted. 
> 
> Sensitive_pigeon, horror writer and general genius (she'd deny it too, read her fic Get Lost and tell her you agree with me), told me this should not go to the garbage bin. 
> 
> There's no sex in this, as it's G rated. It's a one shot, but your comments are appreciated. Very appreciated. The muse, a very fat, hungry, and angry hippo I named Bertha, will thank you for it. It feeds her gluttonous body, and she in turn whispers fic ideas into my ear. 
> 
> NOW ONWARD! TO THE FLUFF!

            Flat feet are genetic, and they’re a pain in the ass. They can cause all sorts of issues, like collapsed arches, ankle problems, knee issues, etc. The biggest issue that bothered Nicole for most of her life was that it made her predisposed to be a terrible runner.

            For most people, this wouldn’t be an issue. There are plenty of other things to be good at, of course! For example, Chess doesn’t require a seven minute mile, nor do any of the liberal arts. However, when you’ve been five foot nine since you were fourteen years old, and you come from a small family of very good very competitive athletes, a slow painful run will put you at a deficit. Nicole, needless to say, couldn’t abide by this. So the habit began.

            Joseph Haught once accused his daughter of being one of the most stubborn, hard working people on the planet, if—and only if—she was trying to make a point. Hayley ran varsity track and field, and she ran with a graceful stride, long lean legs winning her trophies and ribbons her entire high school career. When she’d come home from a track meet, Nicole—the younger of the two, with a massive jealous streak—would seethe, mumbling something about how she’d been cursed when she inherited her late mother’s arches and how life wasn’t fair. So when Joseph’s gangly, similarly red headed and barely teenage daughter began to get up two hours before school’s start to run an abysmal thirteen minute mile around her school’s dirt track, he could only drink his coffee, watch her leave, and laugh to himself.

            Damn if she didn’t make it a life long habit, however. Nicole proceeded to wake up at precisely 4:05 am for the next ten or so years, and gradually whittled her time down from thirteen to eight. It was a painful, grueling process, but Nicole managed to do it, much to her sister and single father’s amazement.

            When Nicole told her father and Hayley she was joining the police academy two weeks after her twenty second birthday, the first comment from anyone’s mouth was obvious.

            “Well, you definitely aren’t failing the physical.” Her sister spat with a smirk and a cross of her slender arms.

            Naturally Hayley said this in the sarcastic tone she was known for, but Nicole couldn’t hide the huge dimpled smile on her face. The comment, as snarky as it was, was high praise considering who it came from.

            Fast forward to a new job, town, and girlfriend later, and Waverly’s decided to sleep over at Nicole’s modest apartment for the first time. Nicole, in her sexually sated bliss, had completely forgotten that at 4:05am, her bedside alarm would screech like an ungodly siren from hell right next to where Waverly slept peacefully. Turns out, preprogramed alarm clocks aren’t sentient, and have no idea when you’d actually prefer to sleep in.  

            BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

            “Christ!” Came a high pitched shriek accompanied by a loud thump, and a very nude Waverly Earp had hit the ground. Almost instantaneously Nicole was up and scrambling to turn the alarm clock off. Needless to say now was definitely not the right time to explain that she had a previously set appointment to run made when she was fourteen years old and very single.

            “Oh my God, Waverly! I’m so _so_ sorry.” Nicole could only insist as she helped Waverly off the ground.

            “Who wakes up this early?!” The smaller girl spat out, her pride hurting nearly as much as her rear end.

            “It’s time for my run. I’m sorry—it’s weird.” Nicole sputtered, sitting on the bed with her head in her hands.

            “Oh.” Waverly replied. It was feasible, if not a little insane. “It’s okay. I mean, you didn’t exactly expect me to spend the night.” She mused.

            “Thank you though, for doing that, by the way. I--uh… it was nice.” Nicole admitted awkwardly. Waverly bit back a smile while the taller girl slowly began turning crimson from embarrassment. The smaller woman had wrapped herself with a duvet, while Nicole was wearing panties and a tank top, not quite comfortable with sleeping in the nude like Waverly was.

            “Do you want to, though? Run, I mean.” Waverly asked. Nicole’s eyes widened just a moment as she faltered, thinking perhaps this was a trick question. Quickly realizing the implication, Waverly smiled genuinely and laid her hand on Nicole’s bare arm. “Outside. Honestly, it’s alright if you do.”

            “Uh… well then, I guess I do. I haven’t missed a day since 2003.” Nicole cringed at the admission, realizing instantly how insane that sounded out loud.            

            “Can I go with you?” Waverly asked. Nicole perked up at this immediately. While Waverly was in fantastic shape, the red head had never seen her jog, much less actually run. Well, when she wasn’t being chased by revenants of course. The idea was intriguing however. This was a totally new opportunity to see her in a different environment and thus, get to know her better.

            “Really? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Nicole amended, offering a way out. Waverly quickly rejected this notion.

            “Only if we can swing back to the homestead so I can change into my work out clothes!” Waverly chirped in response. Nicole couldn’t help the toothy smile that naturally followed. This was going to be interesting.

* * *

 

 

            Nicole’s feet hadn’t actually touched dirt or gravel until around 6:30am, due to Waverly having to go through four or five different top and bottom choices, due to either excitement or vanity, either of which Nicole found utterly adorable. It was predictable yet nonetheless comical that they passed a very hung over Wynonna snoring on the couch when they entered and left, the both of them mid conversation, with not one indication that Wynonna heard either of them nor gave two shits about the time or what they were doing.

            “She normally like this, passed out drunk in the morning?” Nicole asked when they were outside.

            “You should really be asking when Wynonna isn’t drunk, Nicole. I’d actually have an answer for that one.” Waverly said sardonically, and while it was obvious she’d been joking, there was a slight tone of displeasure that laid under the thin surface of jest, and Nicole tucked her head and the information away in a corner of her mind to think about later. Nevertheless, they were finally outside, and apparently ready to run. Two hours later than scheduled, but Waverly was company, and Nicole was sure her fourteen year old self wouldn’t mind, especially if she saw the very tight Nike track pants the youngest Earp had chosen to wear.

            “How far are we running?” Waverly asked suddenly, snapping Nicole out of her haze of admiration for modern sports wear.

            “Uh, I typically run from my apartment to the town limits, which is about six miles. We can do one or two instead, if you want.” Nicole didn’t want to underestimate Waverly, but she also wasn’t trying to kill her during their first real activity together weaponless and vertical.

            “Two measly miles? Pshhh. Let’s do six!” Waverly hooted with enthusiasm and Nicole nearly choked in response.

            “Are you sure?” She nervously asked. “I mean…” Already she could tell she’d said too much. Waverly’s hazel eyes were beginning to narrow, and Nicole took a step back, her hands quickly raised to a surrender position.

            “Care to make a wager, Officer Haught?” Waverly said brazenly, a delicately plucked eyebrow raised dangerously.

            “Alright.” Nicole replies, her face smoothing over in a mask of confidence. “What’s the wager, Earp?”

            “I’ll do six miles, and I’ll do it faster than you.” To this, Nicole had to bite off a disbelieving huff. A slow smirk dawned on the taller girl’s face, and had her father been there, he’d warn her to tread water carefully, as this was Waverly Earp, a girl she adored, not her sister Hayley, and definitely not some boy she was trying to embarrass in high school gym class.

            “If you win?” Nicole asked.

            “You buy me French fries at Kat’s Diner for the next year. Any time I want, immediately upon request.”

            “And if I win?” Nicole pressed, cocky smile on her face. Waverly snorted.

            “You won’t win.”

            “Fine.” Nicole responded, that smile getting larger. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Nicole took out her phone, and calculated the route. The phone was set to announce via its speaker as they approached every mile. After a few confident taps she put the phone in her pocket, and Waverly held out a manicured hand for her to shake. This was either some strange foreplay or an argument in the making, and neither of them were very sure, but they both knew who was going to win. Unfortunately, one of them was destined to be wrong.

            They stood at the gate to the Earp homestead kicking at dirt and stretching like a pair of twelve year olds, thankfully without an audience. When they’d both sufficiently stretched and glared at each other good naturedly, Nicole stretched her foot out, made a line in the dirt with her sneakered toe, and turned to wink at Waverly. The younger girl, to her credit, was nonplussed at the gesture.

            “Go!” Waverly screamed, and she began to sprint, laughing as she left Nicole in the literal dust.

            “Hey! You can’t—shit!” Nicole yelled in disbelief, before she eventually scurried to catch up.

            Flat footed disadvantage or not, a good six inches of leg length will give anyone a bit of an edge over a shorter competitor, and she overcame the head start Waverly had in a few dozen yards. Nicole was steadfast in the lead, trying not to gloat—she still would like to get laid in the near future—and she could hear Waverly’s feet crunch the gravel behind her in small measured beats. In fact, just as the phone announced that they were half way to the fourth mile, it began to dawn on Nicole that Waverly wasn’t grunting or groaning in discomfort even at this point in their run. Any typical amateur runner would be very loudly indicating their distress by now. However, Waverly’s breaths sounded controlled and even, and Nicole’s eyes widened just as she started to pick up the pace.

            _5 MILES_

            The phone chirped robotically from inside Nicole’s jacket pocket. The foot stomps behind Nicole began to pick up in speed, and thus, the taller woman began to panic. She’d been cocky. She was probably going to lose. Worry was beginning to seep into her aching shins.

            Soon, the two of them were running full speed, and jockeying for the lead. Waverly had shorter legs, but her stamina and breathing barely seemed taxed, while Nicole’s arches, those weak, betraying bastards, were beginning to throb and ache. As if she knew, Waverly sprinted ahead, just as the phone beeped an inappropriately upbeat little tune, indicating that they’d reached their goal, and Nicole her embarrassment.

            “YEAH!” Waverly screamed, raising her arms as if she were running through a ribbon in the Olympics. Nicole skidded to a stop, bending at the knees, her entire body numb from disbelief.

            “How in the—I mean—you never run!” Nicole stuttered. Waverly had the nerve to cackle in response.

            “I prefer the elliptical actually. You’ve just never seen me go to the gym! I go while you’re at work.” Of course, Nicole thought. Of course Waverly wouldn’t have to train to be better at running than her.

            “It’s these fucking flat feet!” Nicole grunted to herself with a defeated shake of her head.

            “What?” Waverly replied, confused.

            “Nothing. Good job.”

            Waverly cackled again, rubbing her hands together.

* * *

 

 

            They eventually made it back to the homestead, where they were both surprised to find Wynonna sat upright drinking black and perhaps burnt coffee she’d somehow managed to make on her own, staring angrily at the closed cover of an issue of People magazine.

            “What the hell were you two doing?” She grunted when they walked in with big smiles on their faces.

            “Running.” Waverly replied innocently enough.

            “Hah. Nerds.” Wynonna laughed.

            “She’s a much better runner than I thought she was.” Nicole admitted, fighting off her exhaustion and smiling shyly at Waverly, who began to blush.

            “She try and hussle you?” Wynonna asked flatly.

            “How’d you know?” Nicole asked, stopping in her tracks. In the meantime, Waverly leaned forward to flip open the magazine in an annoying gesture. Wynonna turned to scowl at her sister, who smiled pleasantly in return.

            “I taught her that.” Wynonna remarked, “Girl’s the fastest runner I’ve ever seen. It’s unnatural when you’re that short. The boys on the track team never needed that lunch money anyway.” Wynonna said with a slight smirk and a shrug, before grumpily pushing the magazine onto the floor, and smacking her forehead onto the table.

            “I’m so hungover.” She groaned.

            “Don’t drink, then.” Waverly spat. Wynonna gasped dramatically from her position facedown on the table.

            “They should really put warning stickers on the bottles!” Wynonna joked. Waverly shook her head but smiled anyway.                                                                                                                       

* * *

 

            That evening, after they both showered—together, because why the hell not—they lay in bed. Waverly didn’t say a word about whether she’d be staying that night, but Nicole hoped she did. She thought about buying an extra toothbrush, maybe a spare towel for her to use. Would she need to clean out a drawer? It made her nervous, but excited.

            “Nicole?” Waverly said, after she grew bored of her magazine.

            Nicole took her reading glasses off, placed them on the table stand and yawned. She laid the police report she’d been browsing in her lap.

            “What?”

            “I’m craving French fries.”

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it folks. That's it. 
> 
> Call it a little gift between the sequel to From The Rafters, and another little fic I'm working on. 
> 
> Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Please let me know.
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr @trashsalad. I await you!


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